


pink rain

by ch_sm



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Tags Are Hard, but not actually, it's honestly not too sad!, jun dances, just one line or so of it being contemplated but it's never done, please excuse the wonky formatting, the author has no clue what they're doing, this is a mess but hey I tried, this was literally born out of a 2 am convo please gimme some slack, ww likes photography, yes this is mcd but really is it that sad?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25772971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ch_sm/pseuds/ch_sm
Summary: Wonwoo’s never liked the sun. His eyes have always been too sensitive and his skin too easily burned. Moreover, he’s heard too many things about skin cancer to feel comfortable being outside in the scalding light for long. Even as he thinks this, the boy standing before him, radiating light and warmth, draws him in.Wonwoo learns that maybe, maybe, he doesn’t hate the sun all too much. He just hopes he doesn’t get burned.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29





	pink rain

**Author's Note:**

> hello!
> 
> this was honestly kinda a journey to write. I wasn't actually planning on finishing it, but then I was like "huh, what if I killed off moon's favorite person in the world for his birthday?" so then this was born.
> 
> happy birthday moon! sorry, this is a mess but hey, I tried. (thanks for being a great friend. please don't hate me)
> 
> I don't really know what I'm doing... so I guess enjoy? please? ;-;;

The first time he sees Junhui is in the summer, and with this encounter comes many revelations. 

Mingyu had practically begged Wonwoo to accompany him to the beach that weekend. Mingyu had wanted to learn how to photograph the beach for a while, and it would be a perfect opportunity to practice adjusting exposure, playing with the shutter speed, and simply going to get good shots during golden hour. 

Minghao had decided to accompany them, immediately agreeing when Mingyu had brought it up. Minghao’s leg had stopped bouncing up and down for a few seconds when they proposed the small trip, shoulders relaxing subtly. Wonwoo understood. Minghao had a big performance coming up with the university’s dance crew, one which was extremely important for recruiting new members. He had been stressing about it for the past month, spending every waking second going over the moves. 

For Wonwoo, photography had always been his safe space, a world that he could build for himself, isolated by the frame of the camera, the clicking of the shutter. 

Clearly, it played a similar role for Minghao too. 

Minghao and Mingyu had discussed bringing someone else along to model for portrait shots and Wonwoo had spaced out, mind wandering as he contemplated what the trip would mean. This would be a good opportunity for him too, he mused. It would help him get out of the rut he was in. All his photographs had become a blur, each and every picture blending into a dull collage. 

Wonwoo hoped he would find inspiration there.

They decided to meet at the beach an hour before the start of golden hour, with Mingyu picking Wonwoo up while Minghao carpooled with his friend, who was tagging along and would serve as Mingyu’s model for his portrait shots. 

Mingyu picks him up in a bright red truck, worn down from age and use. The tail of the truck has a dent the size of a palm from the last time Mingyu had an accident, and the paint is starting to chip off in certain areas, revealing the rusted metal underneath.

When he sees the truck pulling up in the driveway, Wonwoo grabs his equipment and immediately sits shotgun, digital camera dangling from his neck. 

He looks back to his dorm one more time, hands itching to grab his film camera from where it’s hidden in his closet. He longs to not only take photos but to put his time and effort into each one, to develop them with care and precision. He longs to put his soul into this form of art again, to see them come alive. He hasn’t been able to in too long.

In the end, he simply sits back in the seat of the car, a sigh escaping from his lips. He’s running out of film and has yet to find inspiration. After all, film has always been expensive and time-consuming. 

Mingyu kicks the engine into gear and Wonwoo stares out the window as the truck inches forward, engines revving in the background. He picks up his camera, rolls down the car window, and takes a shot of the buildings passing by. 

He doesn’t look at the result－he knows it’ll look the same as all his photos do. 

He sighs and puts his camera down, turning his head to watch the world pass by in a blur. 

* * *

When Wonwoo first lays his eyes on him, it seems like time stills. The crashing of the waves fades into white noise and the sun reflecting off the sand seems to illuminate his tall figure from the end of the beach. 

At first glance, he seems to be bathed in light.

Minghao introduces the boy as Wen Junhui, his best friend whom he had met in dance. Junhui has messy chestnut brown hair that flutters in the sea breeze and falls in front of dark eyes which seem to sparkle. 

Wonwoo attributes the shine to the brightness of the summer day, the sun glaring down at them. Even then, he knows that that’s not the source.

His face is peppered with small moles and Wonwoo subconsciously tries to connect the dots. He thinks that they remind him of constellations, and Wonwoo has always loved the stars. The boy has almost perfect proportions and features, a sharp jawline paired with a tall nose bridge. Wonwoo thinks it’s almost unfair for someone to look that good. 

Wonwoo stretches his arm out to shake hands with the boy, and the boy smiles back at him with a light that rivals the rays from above.

Wonwoo’s never liked the sun. His eyes have always been too sensitive and his skin too easily burned. Moreover, he’s heard too many things about skin cancer to feel comfortable being outside in the scalding light for long. Even as he thinks this, the boy standing before him, radiating light and warmth, draws him in.

As the corners of his lips lift upwards and his eyes crinkle around the edges, Wonwoo instinctively squints, and yet he tries to keep his eyes open. For a split second, Wonwoo thinks that it would be a shame to miss this sight. More than that, he feels a burning in his tummy and in his chest when he hears a peal of giggles fall from Junhui’s mouth, a warmth that he can’t recognize, one that doesn’t come from the heat of the summer day. 

Wonwoo had learned how to photograph the sun long ago. He learned how to avoid the brightness and glare, and had mastered the art of lighting, but in the presence of the boy, he feels all of his expertise slip away. 

Wonwoo learns that maybe, maybe, he doesn’t hate the sun all too much. He just hopes he doesn’t get burned.

* * *

When Wonwoo gets home, the first thing he does is take out his camera. He flips through all the photos he took until one catches his eye, standing out among the rest. The lighting is a little too bright, the corners of the photo washed out by the glare. He can see the waves in the background, the sun glistening off the wet sand. In the middle, a slightly blurry figure is turned towards him, eyes bright and smile wide. 

Wonwoo thinks he can hear his laughter through the photo, and he smiles back. 

* * *

  
Minghao invites Wonwoo to come watch the dance showcase along with their other friends at the end of class. Wonwoo hadn’t commented on their trip to the beach, and yet, Minghao has always been much too observant. 

He tells Wonwoo that the boy bathed in light will be there, and Wonwoo can’t say no.

* * *

Wonwoo brings his camera with him. 

To be more specific, he brings two. As far as anyone else can see, he only carries his digital camera around his neck, hands curled around it protectively, but Wonwoo can feel the weight of the film in his backpack. He thinks that maybe this time he’ll need it.

He’s always loved seeing photos of bodies in motion, figures moving gracefully through the air in front of backlit surroundings. He figures it’s about time to try taking some himself.

And if he thinks that he might also be able to get some shots of the boy, no one needs to know.

  
  


The performance is like nothing he could’ve imagined. Decked in long, shimmery white robes over black, Minghao comes on stage with three other boys, each wearing a similar garment. Wonwoo spots a younger dancer with a charismatic aura and another with blond hair and sharp eyes before his eyes land on the boy from the beach. His attention catches onto the intricate gold designs embroidered onto the robe, shifting in and out of the light with each graceful step he takes across the stage, into the spotlight. 

Wonwoo thinks he looks ethereal.

  
  


Wonwoo knows that the boy is around his age. They’ve lived through the same time, existed in the same space, and yet, the boy is full of unfathomable power and purpose as he dances. He’s full of life, something that Wonwoo hasn’t felt in a long time.

But as Wonwoo stares, he thinks he can feel a little bit of life ignite in himself too.

  
  


When the performance finishes, the crowd gives a standing ovation, the chorus of claps drowned out by Wonwoo’s awe. Lights flicker on in the auditorium as the audience stands up out of their seats, either pushing forwards to congratulate the performers or trying to leave from the back exits.

Only after a particularly loud holler does he realize that he forgot to take any photos.

He sees Junhui peek over the heads of the crowd, eyes landing on Wonwoo for a split second. Just as Wonwoo raises his arm into the air to wave, Junhui stumbles. 

And he falls, and falls, and falls until he hits the ground. 

* * *

Wonwoo goes to check on Jun the next day. Driving into the hospital parking lot, he feels nervous, sweaty palms gripping the steering wheel mercilessly. 

When he walks inside, he isn’t greeted by the limp and sleeping figure he expects, but rather the animated and bright boy he had first met that day on the beach. His arms flail around in the air as he gestures, laughter drowning out the beeping of machines and the dullness of the air. 

“I’m okay, Wonwoo! I just forgot to eat something before the performance. It was just low blood sugar.”

“Why are they keeping you in?”

“They’re just being worrywarts! Checking to see if I have a concussion and things like that. But look at me,” Junhui yells, bouncing up and down gleefully. “I’ve never been better.”

Wonwoo thinks again that his smile rivals the brightness of the sun.

* * *

Sometimes they get thunderstorms in the time between summer and autumn, when the leaves start turning red and gold, and the air tastes crisp. Wonwoo and Jun find themselves caught in one, bearing the cold wind that bites at them as they walk back from the library to the dorms.

The two had gotten close extremely quickly, especially with their shared friendship with Minghao giving them more chances to hang out. In that time, Wonwoo had learned many things about Jun. How he loved the smell of coffee but couldn’t stomach it, much rather preferring tea. How his playlist was made up of almost exclusively Chinese music, present in how he was always humming a different tune under his breath, words that Wonwoo couldn’t understand. Wonwoo learned that he loved the color purple and that he loved cats even more, and he learned that Junhui liked to dub random videos with his own commentary. Sometimes that habit would even translate into his daily life, with him telling Wonwoo the story of that couple sitting at table 2 and how they must have been discussing the benefits of buying a hotdog machine. From there, they’d developed the habit of waiting for each other after their classes ended and walking back to the dorms together. 

Wonwoo would never admit it out loud, but he’d started to pack up faster at the end of class after the new development.

When the first drops start to fall, he can practically feel the happiness radiate from Junhui before he hears the giggles. Jun has always had an affinity for the unexpected and even more of an affinity for the rain. 

“Wonwoo!” 

And suddenly, he feels the burning in his belly again that even the rain pouring around them in sheets can’t extinguish.

“Wonwoo, look at it! It’s beautiful.” Wonwoo can't help but think, _so are you_.

Wonwoo has always hated the rain. It gets him drenched and soaked, and once it had ruined all of the prints that he had worked painstakingly hard to get. It’s cold and wet, and not only is it a nuisance, it also affects his mood. Wonwoo has read enough books to know that rain is the universal symbol of darkness and despair. It’s well known for representing negativity, and the darkened skies and damp atmosphere always succeed in bringing down his mood.

But when Junhui looks at him with eyes that shine with excitement and pure, unadulterated joy, Wonwoo can almost see the beauty of the rain in the way it falls like tears made of crystal and quartz. 

“It’s pretty, Junnie. It looks nice.”

“No, no, no! Wonwoo, it’s beautiful!” 

Wonwoo looks at Jun standing outside of the umbrella’s reach, arms stretched out wide above his head to catch the rain, face upturned to the cloudy sky with the biggest, brightest smile.

From under the umbrella, Wonwoo wonders what it would feel like to freely bask in the rain.

“Everything feels... new. Fresh! It’s like you start to see in a different light and live in a different world. It’s quite magical, don’t you think?” 

And all Wonwoo can do is nod as Junhui twists and turns and sings as he spins farther and farther away from the shelter that the umbrella provides. He sees the raindrops cling to the warmth of his skin, to the warmth of Junhui, trying to hold on as he dances amidst the falling crystals.

They cling on for as long as they can, all before losing their grip and slipping away.

Wonwoo vaguely remembers that aside from the negative representations of rain, there was an extra paragraph talking about rain and life, about how it symbolized rebirth and the new.

With Junhui, Wonwoo feels like he can understand that paragraph. 

  
  
With Junhui distracted, Wonwoo quickly pulls out his phone and snaps a quick photo, one of Junhui dancing to the melody of the rain.

Junhui has always loved the rain, the way it falls from the skies and cleans the world.

And Wonwoo? Well, Wonwoo doesn't like the feeling of falling, but he thinks he’ll be okay with it as long as Junhui is there to catch him.

* * *

Sometimes, Jun invites Wonwoo to watch him practice as he gears up for more performances. Junhui moves with unparalleled grace, each finger holding more elegance than Wonwoo could muster up in his entire body. He sways as if made of wind and bends as if built of water, a fiery passion present in every move he makes. He dances with the pure feeling of living and joy etched into every one of his moves, and he doesn’t stop until the room is hot and stuffy and he is worn down. Sometimes, he doesn’t even stop then. 

Junhui dances like he’s breathing life into the world, and Junhui dances like it’s what breathes life into him. 

And Wonwoo knows that Junhui has also breathed life and color into Wonwoo’s own world. Because of Junhui, he learns to be content with what he has. He learns to smile in the rain, bask in the sun, hum and dance to the timeless tune of the wind. He learns to live, with Junhui right by his side.

Wonwoo doesn’t know why he didn’t notice each practice session getting shorter and shorter, each time resulting in Junhui panting more and more. Maybe it’s because each time, all Wonwoo can do is stare.

* * *

The first time Wonwoo brings Junhui into the university’s darkroom, Junhui is wearing white. 

Junhui marvels at the chemicals Wonwoo mixes in order to create the baths, peering at all the foreign equipment with innocent curiosity and wonder.

When Wonwoo turns all the lights off, Junhui yelps, hands waving around blindly to grab onto Wonwoo as his shrieks fill the air. He hears Jun knock into the table and hit the wall with his flailing arms, small yet exaggerated whimpers of pain and giggles coming from the figure wrapped behind him. Wonwoo laughs, and he thinks he can envision the way that Junhui must be pouting, all doe eyes and pursed lips.

When the red lights flicker on, Wonwoo looks back to see Jun bathed in a red glow. Junhui seems to light up with the colored light, radiating the red and warmth of a burning hearth. 

When Junhui sees the final product, his resulting grin makes Wonwoo’s heart thump faster in his chest, and Wonwoo can’t help but to smile back.

When the lights turn back on, Junhui’s shirt is white again, but the warmth hasn’t disappeared.

  
  


Junhui laughing and goofing around with the equipment as Wonwoo smiles indulgently at him becomes a common sight in the university darkroom.

* * *

It’s another day, long after both of their last classes end, that Wonwoo uses his film camera again. He had been carrying it around with him for the past few days, waiting for the right opportunity. Wonwoo revels in the new colors that he can see these days, and he waits for the right moment to capture them.

It’s only when Junhui turns to him and smiles as they walk back to the dorms that Wonwoo takes out his camera and snaps a quick photo. 

The beauty of film is that you don’t know what the photo you take looks like. You can’t see the finished product until you go and develop it. 

Even then, Wonwoo’s sure that this photo is perfect.

* * *

“Nonu, do you believe in soulmates?”

Wonwoo stiffens, hands paused where they were making the chemical bath for his new prints. Junhui liked to try out different nicknames for Wonwoo, but that one specifically had stuck.

“You mean like the red string of fate, things like that?” Wonwoo tries to keep his voice nonchalant, hands resuming their job.

“Yeah! I read something about it yesterday and it was super cool!” Junhui hops a few times in excitement, hands gesturing wildly. “Apparently, there’s an artery that connects your heart to your pinky, and it extends like a thread and connects to your soulmate. Someone who will impact you greatly, someone who will always be there for you. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

Junhui’s eyes are alight with something akin to childish wonder, and Wonwoo can’t help but smile as he nods. “It really does, Junnie.”

“Nonu, do you think we’re soulmates?”

Wonwoo almost drops the chemical-filled bin that he just picked up, managing to come to his senses fast enough to steady it and place it back on the table. He ducks his head in hopes that Junhui can’t see the red that creeps up his cheeks.

“W-what do you mean?” Wonwoo winces are the crack in his voice and clears his throat.

“You’re a super important person in my life!” Junhui continues. “I think it would make sense. Plus, I’d be very sad if you ever left me, so you better stay by my side forever!”

Before Wonwoo can say anything, Junhui’s face lights up with a smile, as if he’s come to a grand epiphany. “Nonu, give me your hand!”

And Wonwoo reaches out without hesitation, resting his left hand in Junhui’s palms with questioning eyes.

“The article said that pinky promises also work! Nonu, pinky promise that you’ll never leave me?”

Wonwoo thinks that he can see Junhui’s cheeks flush as he curls their pinkies together tightly. 

“Of course, Junnie. And you’ll never leave me?”

  
  


“Never.”

* * *

When they walk back from the university to their dorms, it’s already dark, the moon painting a soft glow over the sidewalks. Wonwoo doesn’t know when it happened, but as they stroll through the university, he finds them hand in hand. Jun’s fingertips are cold and they prick at his skin as they curl around his hand tightly, swinging their entwined hands back and forth.

When they stop in front of Junhui’s dorm, Wonwoo can’t help but stare at him a little longer. He thinks that Junhui’s moles really do look like constellations, matching the darkened sky above, but before he can think any further, they’ve both leaned forward, and his mind blanks out.

  
  


When he walks back to his dorms, cheeks red and lips in a wide smile, Wonwoo thinks that maybe this time Junhui’s fingers felt colder because his lips were so warm.

* * *

That night, Wonwoo dreams of standing under a cherry blossom tree in full bloom. Petals fall from the sky and Junhui dances around him. 

He dances around in the midst of pink rain.

* * *

Wonwoo gets a call at 3 pm, right after his last class as he stands outside and waits for Junhui. When he sees the number, his blood runs cold, and when he picks up the call, his heart stops.

Wonwoo is not there when the line goes flat. He only makes it to the waiting room 7 minutes after the time of death is called. By then, the body has already been taken away, and Wonwoo almost feels grateful. Even if they hadn’t, Wonwoo doesn’t think he would have been able to look at Junhui again. Not like that. Not his Junhui, with laughter dancing through the air and life running through his veins. 

They tell him that it was peaceful and that he had a smile on his face.

Wonwoo almost laughs. Leave it to Junhui to smile at the threshold between life and death, accepting whatever comes his way. Wonwoo almost cries, because Junhui stepped over the threshold, to the other side, and that was his last smile, projected into the world as he succumbed to endless sleep. And Wonwoo wasn’t there.

In the end, Wonwoo doesn’t know how to respond, so he runs. 

In his daze, Wonwoo remembers reading about the tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice. He’s well-versed enough in the myth to know that if Orpheus hadn’t looked back, if only he had kept going forwards without turning around, Eurydice would have lived.

So Wonwoo turns his back to the hospital and he doesn’t look back.

He runs out of the building and out on the streets, and somewhere along the way he trips and he’s falling, falling, falling, and no one’s there to catch him anymore.

He’s falling, and Junnie isn’t there to catch him.

He only stops when he feels the cold drops hit his face, his glasses, his eyes. He stretches his arms out to catch the rain, cranes his neck to face the sky, and when he opens his eyes the world is different. The clouds cast a harsher gray and the buildings are too clustered and sharp and the rain hurts like pins stabbing through his skin. 

He thinks that Junhui was right when he said that when it rained, the world was born anew. 

* * *

He finds himself in the darkroom. It’s pitch black and quiet, but he has to be there. 

Junhui has to be there. 

This is where Junhui breathes and laughs and dances and smiles and exists. This is where Junhui had yelped every time the lights turned off, had watched with wonder as Wonwoo taught him how to use the equipment. 

This is where Junhui had promised to never leave his side.

But there’s no sound, there’s no laughter, no shrieks and giggles and warmth, and Wonwoo just needs to see Junhui’s face again because he still has to be here. He can’t be gone.

So Wonwoo searches. He searches and searches with the desperation of a man in a desert searching for water, and when his fingers slip against the corner of an object and he feels the sting of a cut he knows he’s found a photo. 

For a split second, when he brings his hand back and sees the blood seeping through the small wound, he considers following Junhui. It seems so easy, so much less painful, and yet, as he contemplates it, he’s brought back to reality when he feels as if the photo clutched tightly in his hands starts to burn. 

When he flips it, it’s the one. 

Staring right at him is Junhui smiling under the trees that line their university campus as his eyes light up in joy and his excitement radiates through the medium that is film. It’s the one that’s supposed to be perfect.

But Wonwoo hates it. He can’t hear his tinkling laugh, it doesn’t radiate warmth, and suddenly everything is burning.

Wonwoo doesn’t remember what happened. All he knows is that when he came back to his senses, the darkroom was filled with ashes, not a photo in sight.

* * *

Wonwoo had once read in a book that the fires that burned the brightest burned the quickest, and all that would be left was dust.

* * *

Wonwoo remembers Junhui talking about the time between winter and spring, where the dead is left behind and the new replaces it. It’s the time when the things you think are gone come back to life. 

Just like the rain, it’s a time of rebirth.

In the span of two months, Wonwoo has learned many things. He has always learned many things when it comes to Junhui.

This time, he learns that sometimes, only one person is missing, and the whole world seems a little less bright.

He learns that there’s a lot he hasn’t experienced yet. Wonwoo envisions waking up lying next to him, hair mused and soft in the rays of sunlight that filter in through the blinds. He envisions kitchens painted in the delicate light of the morning as they make breakfast, soft and tinkling laughter floating through the air. 

He imagines study dates, Junhui resting his head on Wonwoo’s lap as he whines about midterms, and Wonwoo can almost feel his fingers carding through the soft locks he used to stare at so often. He imagines late nights, where instead of staring at the glaring light of his phone as he texts, he can simply wrap his arms around Junhui, who would be next to him.

Wonwoo learns that it’s possible to miss things he’s never known.

* * *

Life is just starting to return to the world. The flowers have started blooming, the trees have started standing taller, the streets have begun filling up with color. 

Wonwoo finds himself standing under a cherry blossom tree, each bud just beginning to bloom.

Junhui had always said that rain was magical. It brought you into a new world, made you look through a different lens. It was as if you were living life peering through a grainy and dusty looking glass, and suddenly the surface was scrubbed clean and you could finally see the world as clear as it could be.

With the small pink petals fluttering around him in the wind, Wonwoo likes to think that it looks like pink rain. He thinks Junhui would’ve loved the comparison.

Wonwoo stands and stares, head tilted up at the clusters of petals backlit by clear, blue skies.

He feels a pang of nostalgia, and then he remembers.

Wonwoo remembers, and he finds what he thought he lost.

He finds Junhui’s smile in the brightening of the sun, sharing its warmth with all those it sees. He feels the gusts of wind surrounding him like Junhui’s cold fingertips in the way they lightly bite at his skin. He hears Junhui’s giggles in the white noise of the city, far in the background. He sees Junhui dance in the falling of the petals, falling to the timeless melody of the wind.

Junhui had always believed in magic in the rain.

Wonwoo picks up his camera, aims it at the branches that sway before the sky.

He thinks that Junhui was right when he said that he would never leave Wonwoo’s side.

_Click._

Because Wonwoo thinks he can see Junhui again.

**Author's Note:**

> hope that wasn't too bad! it was my first fic, so I didn't really know what I was doing. whoops. 
> 
> first of all, I need to give all the thanks and appreciation to swanny for helping me beta read this. I mean, immediately helping a random person who appeared in their mentions? yeah, swanny you deserve the world <33 make sure to check out her works too! her writing is phenomenal~
> 
> second, moon! remember this story? I'm sure you recognize a lot of it, a few lines here and there. there's definitely some new stuff too :D I actually managed to finish it, contrary to my own belief. sorry not sorry if this made you sad. I blame you for making me more open to angst. thanks for being one of the best friends I could've asked for. you really do deserve the world, you old hag :D
> 
> enjoy your birthday as much as possible, yeah? you deserve it <33
> 
> (please leave some comments or feedback I guess? ;-;; it's not the best fic, but I'd love to know your thoughts~)
> 
> ty for reading!
> 
> you can find me on [twt](https://twitter.com/sili_moon) or [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/sili_moon)!


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